


Tinker, Tailor, Sanders Spies

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, eventual DLAMP - Freeform, not quite sure where this is going rn, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:29:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sandman. Opal. Red. Rattlesnake. Sparrow.*****A Sanders Sides spy au, based off an ask blog on tumblr called asksanderspies, run by me! Questions can be asked on my tumblr and will be used to further the story. If you have questions that you’d like to ask but aren’t on tumblr, leave your question in the comments. I might answer with a new chapter!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Logan Sanders (call sign: Sandman)

Agent Logan Sanders (call sign: Sandman) is the best field agent T Inc. has. When he’s working, nothing goes wrong. He triple checks everything, he hand-selects his team, and everything works like a well-oiled machine. Some say he must be part android because of how well he works.

He does not want to hear what his supervisors think about this mission.

Logan grumbles quietly to himself as he squeezes through the air vent. _Stupid new partner, stupid Rattlesnake getting himself transferred so I had to get the rookie as a partner, dumb, stupid, waste of my time-_

“Sandman?” His headset crackles.

“Go for Sandman,” he responds as softly as possible. This has become an evacuation. The mission was complete (barely) but the rookie had alerted everyone to their presence, and now Logan has to deal with the fallout.

“Okay, I’ve got the footage pulled up, drop down the next grate.”

“Roger that, Opal.” Virgil Knight (call sign: Opal) is Logan’s first choice in the tech department. They work well together, not too much talking. He’s never actually seen Opal’s face, and that’s fine for the both of them (Logan adamantly ignores his curiosity as to who it is, exactly, behind that velvet baritone).

He drops down into a dark room, and hears his partner before he sees him.

“Fancy meeting you here-“

“Shut it rookie, before I shut your mouth for you,” Logan replies, ripping his change of clothes from Roman’s hands.

Roman Remalto (temporary call sign: Zulu) is Logan’s newest partner. After Rattlesnake got transferred to a different department, Logan worked a few solo missions before command stuck him with a rookie.

A rookie who barely knows when to shut up.

And who messed up his first mission in the field.

Which makes the only mission Logan has ever been on that has gone sideways.

Logan is gonna kill him.

He strips down to his underclothes and tosses on the change. The clothes themselves are not enough to make him look different, but with glasses, fake piercings, and some hair chalk he applies in seconds, he’s a brand new person.

“Nice look for you, Sandman. We could be twins,” Opal’s voice crackles over his headset. Logan lifts his head to look at the one security camera in the room, clearly hacked by Virgil (and playing looping footage, likely), to glare playfully.

“Even the tongue stud, Opal?”

“Even the tongue stud, Sandy.” Logan fights back a smile, which is easy once he turns to look at Roman.

The rookie is tall. Taller than Logan, but that’s not hard to be. People are always surprised that the infamous “Sandman” stands around five foot three.

Logan likes the element of surprise he has.

Roman may be tall, but he shrinks a little under Logan’s gaze.

Good.

The rookie should be scared, he thinks, after the fuck-up he’s pulled.

“Let’s go. Opal, watch our six?”

“Always.”

Out the door they head.

Of course, it’s never so easy.

The mall is big, so they should be able to make it outside to their extraction vehicle with no issues.

This entire mission is determined to be a mess, however, so of course Opal informs them that there are targets getting closer. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to go, the escalator won’t move fast enough and if they start running it’ll be _suspicious think Logan, think-_

Before he knows it, the rookie is kissing him.

He’s standing a step above, so he’s closer to Zulu’s height.

Logan’s brain short circuits, but his body moves on instinct.

Hands on Roman’s sweatshirt, tugging him closer, Logan can’t breathe and he doesn’t care, bad guys who? There is no tomorrow, there is only now and Roman’s hands on his hips and his hands in Roman’s hair.

Logan whines quietly into the kiss, hands clutching tighter to Roman in an attempt to keep himself upright. Logan is burning, igniting, falling apart and only being held together by Roman’s hands. It feels like Roman is trying to devour him, trying to kill him, trying to save him-

“Sorry, sorry,” Roman whispers as he pulls away. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

Logan is confused.

“Sandman? Are you okay?” Roman whispers, because his partner’s eyes are glazed over, half-lidded and hazy.

“Sandman?” Opal’s voice calls in his ear. It sounds miles away. It sounds annoyed. Aggravated. “Extraction vehicle out door E. Go.”

Logan snaps out of it, moving on shaky legs as they reach the bottom of the escalator.

“Let’s go,” he demands of his partner. Roman obeys.

They reach the extraction without any other derailments.

“Opal?” Logan asks in the safety and silence of the car. He needs to hear Opal’s voice, knows that something has broken, something is wrong.

Opal is angry, but Logan isn’t sure why.

“This is Opal, signing off. Goodnight.”

“Opal, wait-“

He hears the tell-tale click of Opal closing his mic, and Logan pulls his headset off in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Roman piped up. “I didn’t know what else to do, and I knew my hoodie could hide our faces, and people don’t really try to stare at people who are making out-“ Logan allows Roman to ramble for a minute, partly because he’s tired and angry, and partly because his mind is remembering the kiss.

He feels ghostly hands on his waist, the touch of lips against his, the feeling of fire-

“-I guess Rattlesnake probably never did anything like that-“

“Do not speak his name,” Logan snaps. “Rattlesnake was an incredible partner. You’re correct in thinking he never did anything like that, because he didn’t have to. Nothing ever went wrong for us.”

He feels Roman shrink away from him, and he can’t help it. His heart aches and it makes him soft.

He’s a fool.

“Look,” Logan sighs. Roman lifts his head slightly. “You made some mistakes today. You’ll make more. You also thought quickly on your feet, and likely saved us through a means I wouldn’t have considered. I shouldn’t condemn you. You are new, and inexperienced. I am simply … used to Rattlesnake. But you are not Rattle and I must accept that. Please be … patient with me as we move forward.”

“Of course,” Roman says immediately, nodding his head. “It’s the least I can do. And I’ll be better. I promise.”

“I have no doubt,” Logan pauses before he finishes his sentence, “Red.” Roman Remalto (call sign: Red) lights up.

“Final?”

“Final.” Logan confirms with a nod as they pull up to base.

“Thank you so much Sandman, oh my god named by Sandman himself holy-“

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“Mouth. Close it.”

“Roger that.”

***

Later that night, Logan will sit down at his desk.

He will begin drafting a letter. Several letters. Rough drafts, and then a final, neat, clean copy.

A letter to the commander, about Opal, and Rattlesnake, and Red.

And himself.

After all, if he’s gonna create a dream team, he’s gonna need the best of the best.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrows eat spiders.

Rattlesnake had always worked alone. No partners, no mess. Everyone else is incompetent, unworthy, idiotic. Rattlesnake worked alone, and that’s how he liked it. 

Until he met Sandman.

Sandman wasn’t always a big name. At one point, he too had been a fresh-faced kid from the Academy, assigned to Rattlesnake as his new partner.

Rattlesnake hated the idea of working with anyone, let alone a rookie. Sandman was tiny, a pip-squeak of a kid. He’s a little older now, but he never did hit that growth spurt Rattle always joked about.

He misses Sandman. He hates himself for it, for allowing attachment and sentiment to sink its claws into him, but he can’t help it.

Sandy was precise. Clean. Nothing ever went wrong with Sandy. 

And, if Rattle is honest with himself, he liked working with Sandman. His partner, the one who he had gifted the call sign to, a call to match his own. Sandman and Rattlesnake, a pair forged in fire and desert heat.

He still remembers their first mission.

***

He is tired.

Rattlesnake had stayed up all night studying the file on his new partner. Logan Sanders (temporary call sign: Zulu) is a kid, not even as tall as Rattle’s youngest sister, looking like he should be taking ‘first day of high school’ photos in front of a brick house on main street.

Zulu isn’t smiling in any of the photos in his file, and Rattle thanks whoever can hear him for the small blessing that is a stone-faced partner. 

Meeting the kid in person is different. The file doesn’t do him justice, Rattlesnake can admit that. 

The man he meets is cold, calculating. He feels ten feet tall, though his head doesn’t reach Rattle’s chest. This does not seem to affect Zulu’s confidence. 

“Agent Sanders. Temporary call sign Zulu,” is the first thing out of his new partner’s mouth.

“Rattlesnake,” Rattle says, like he always does. No names. He waits.

He waits, but Logan does not ask him questions. Doesn’t ask about the scars, or his lack of name, or why his call sign is what it is. 

It’s … not exactly thrilling, but it does make Rattle’s chest constrict oddly. 

Zulu is all business. He checks his weaponry cleanly, he talks to their tech expert to ensure everything is ready, he prepares.

Zulu will watch Rattlesnake’s six from the building across the way, take out any unwanted persons.

Rattle feels somewhat calm as he enters the building right on time, intercepting the target. Everything is running smoothly. He doesn’t hear his partner fire a single shot, there are no alarm bells. He assumes there has been no need to take anyone out, and for that he is thankful. Rookie can have an easy first mission and they can all walk out of here unscathed.

He has the briefcase in hand and is making his way towards the exit when he’s stopped by someone. 

“Hey, where’s your badge? We can’t just be walking around here without-” the man had begun to reach out, but is on the ground before he can lay a hand on Rattlesnake. Rattle turns his head to look out the open window, resisting the urge to wave at his partner. He must have paused for too long, because Logan’s voice crackles over his comm.

“Get out of there. That’s number seven, any more and there will be suspicion.”

_Number seven?_ Rattle thinks as he calmly makes his way down the stairs and out of the building. _Rookie took out six other people and I didn’t even know about it. Six other people who might have interfered with me or the mission, raised the alarm, ruined everything-_

They are sitting in base, going over debriefing paperwork. Rattle can’t stand forms, hates all the paperwork involved with his job. Maybe it is his boredom that makes him speak.

“You took out six people without me seeing or hearing it,” he doesn’t ask a question, just waits for the rookie to respond.

Except the rookie doesn’t even look up at him. Doesn’t even acknowledge that Rattle has spoken to him. Usually when Rattle speaks, everyone scrambles to speak back. To give him the answer he wants to hear. He doesn’t have to ask. 

Apparently, this time, he will have to.

“How?” He says finally, and Zulu lifts his head to look him in the eye.

“I’m good at my job.” Rattle isn’t sure what he was expecting as an answer, but he definitely wasn’t anticipating something so clean-cut, so confident and assured. He simmers in the silence following the statement, rolling the words around in his mouth. Zulu is likely a little too cocky for his own good, but after the show (or lack thereof) that he put on today, perhaps he can afford to be a little cocky.

Perhaps he _needs_ to be. 

“You were really putting people to sleep out there today,” Rattlesnake says, a smooth, relaxed tone to his voice. Once again, Zulu does not look up nor reply, still dutifully filling out paperwork. 

“A real Sandman.”

Logan’s hand pauses in its writing for just a second. Barely noticeable. Silence.

“Final?” Comes the quiet response. 

“Final,” Rattle says, and Sandman’s face dons the smallest smile.

“Thank you, Rattle.”

“Don’t go shortening my call sign. We’re not friends.”

“No, of course not.”

This is the beginning of a beautiful partnership, Rattlesnake thinks. 

***

Logan had begun going out in the field with him as more than someone to watch his back, instead allowing Opal to cover their sixes, and then that decision stuck. In the field they worked like a machine, two people who shared one brain. It was perfect.

Until the transfer.

The transfer to intel had been unexpected and unwanted. He has little to no contact with Sandy anymore, and command hadn’t even specified why he was being moved at all. They didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. He’s being ripped away from Logan, and now they both have to deal with _stupid, dumb partners, we are the best partners in the field and everyone knows it-_

He leans forward to flip open the file on his new partner.

Patton Shea (call sign: <strike>Monarch</strike> Sparrow)

Rattlesnake cannot hold back his surprise. Once your call sign is listed, it is never changed. No exceptions. 

Rattlesnake reads further into the file.

Okay, maybe one exception. 

His transfer suddenly makes a lot more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently I am only ever going to make vague summaries for this story


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil Knight (call sign: Opal)

Virgil Knight was not an A student. He wasn’t much of a student at all, to be honest, and that didn’t bother him one bit. 

The only time Virgil really started to be bothered by his status as a C student was when college application season rolled around Junior year of high school. 

_ Dear Virgil Knight, we regret to inform you- _

_ Mr. Knight, we are sorry to say that- _

_ Virgil, while your paper was well written, we here at Maryland think you might not be- _

Rejection letter after rejection letter arrived in Virgil’s mailbox, letter after letter that he hid from his mom, insisting the responses to his numerous applications would come soon. 

And when the anxiety and the stress became too much, Virgil joined his dumbass friends doing dumbass high school boy things, and got drunk. 

*****

“V, Virge, V-dog,” Ryan hiccups with laughter. “Do you still do that computer stuff?”

“Yeah, Ryan, I still do that computer stuff,” Virgil snorts from his spot on the couch where he hangs upside down.

“Dude dude dude!” His friend gasps, gathering the attention of the few other guys in the room. “You should hack something!”

“The school’s wifi!” One boy chimes in.

“The school’s entire system you gotta think bigger Jay!”

“No no no, the city system!” Ryan gasps the loudest, and all eyes turn to him.

“No, the  _ government  _ system. Virge, dude, could you hack the federal defense system or some shiz? Oh god that would be so cool dude!” Virgil’s not entirely sure he could do that. He’s been lucky having not been caught in his previously successful hacking attempts, and the idea of hacking into something like the Agency seems dangerous. But he’s drunk and bored and his life is going no where, and hey, it’s the Agency, who says he could hack that shit anyway?

So “sure” Virgil says.

*****

_ The Agency has an impossibly easy system to hack,  _ Virgil thinks several hours later, having basically trolled every Agency worker in existence by making their screens play Never Gonna Give You Up for several continuous hours. 

And honestly, Virgil doesn’t even think about what he’s just done. He passes out at Ryan’s house after it’s done, and when he wakes up the next morning he drives himself home hungover, and sleeps the rest of the weekend away. 

Until Sunday morning, when he answers the door to two men in suits.

“Uh, hi, listen, we’re not really any denomination, and we don’t have time to talk about your religion or anything but if you wanna leave your book or whatever-”

“Are you Virgil Knight?”

“... yeah. Why?” And then suddenly the men are flashing badges and his mother is coming to the door and asking what the problem is and now Virgil is sitting at a table with the two suit men (who are apparently from the Agency) while his mom takes his little brother Jackson down the street for lunch (helpfully paid for with a fifty dollar bill from the blond haired suit man). 

“Okay, what is this?” Virgil spits as soon as the door closes behind his mother.

“You know exactly why we’re here, Mr. Knight. We traced the IP address of the person who hacked our systems, and when it lead us to your friend Ryan, he was quick to fill us in on who the real mastermind behind it was.” Virgil can’t help it - he’s getting nervous. He’s swallowing harshly and his palms are sweaty.

“What … what does this mean? Are you gonna arrest me?” The two men glance at each other, and Virgil worries for a minute that they’re gonna whip out some hand cuffs and erase his family’s memories of him like some stupid Will Smith secret agent movie, but then blondie shakes his head.

“There are two options here, Virgil. Option one is prison time. A long sentence in a federal prison, which is not a nice place,” Virgil stiffens in his seat. “The second,” blondie’s partner takes over, “is that you come work for us. Improve our systems, maybe some internal work for some of our agents.”   
“Work for- for the Agency?” Virgil asks hesitantly. “I’m supposed to go to college in the fall and-”   
“Mr. Knight, we’ve seen your test scores. We know that you’re not going to make it into college in the fall-” Virgil bristles, even though this statement is factually correct.    
“And besides,” blondie buts in again, “we are prepared to pay you for your services. Obviously.”

“How much?” Virgil asks after a beat of silence.

And, well, with the number they offered, Virgil signed on the dotted line without so much as another raised eyebrow.

*****

The first several months working for the Agency are boring - Virgil does paperwork, improves their web defenses, creates coding on high tech computers and feels satisfied when he returns to his base-housing. Though he’s typically yawning though the day, he feels an extreme amount of joy when he sees his bank account. He sends money to his mother and brother - memories still intact - and gets pictures every so often of them, letting him know that Jackson is doing well in school, and even growing his hair out. He misses them, but knowing they’ll never have to struggle puts a smile on his face when he returns to his empty apartment. His world gets turned upside down a little more when he finishes the security defense coding. 

Virgil receives his call sign when he gets assigned to an agent - not a rookie, but certainly not a seasoned professional, whose call is simply Rattlesnake. Rattlesnake is the quiet, brooding type, and while Virgil finds his silence grating, he likes the way the man operates - all work and no play. They aren’t a perfect match, but no one gets hurt. Sometimes the missions have hitches, but Virgil Knight (call sign: Opal) always gets Rattlesnake smoothly through to the other side. They’ve almost created a smooth machine when they’re tossed around again by Sandman entering the scene. He’s annoying, a know-it-all, and meticulous to a fault. Rattlesnake is warming up to him, and it frustrates Virgil for some reason. Sure, Sandman is good at his job, but he’s been Rattlesnake’s partner for the better part of two months, and they’re still not friends. It only takes a few missions for everything to come to a head.

*****

“What you did was stupid-”

“What I did saved our lives,” Sandman responds coldly to his field partner as they move into the extraction vehicle, getting the hell out of dodge before the mission can be recorded as anything less than perfect.   
“Rattle is right, you can’t go around-” Virgil cuts in over the headset, only to be interrupted.

“Don’t shorten my call,” Rattlesnake growls lowly, and Virgil wants to bang his head against the wall. 

“Opal only wishes to make your call more accurate. Rattle, like the item a baby holds, since you seem to want to behave like one,” Sandman says cooly, and Virgil freezes, watching through the vehicle’s seat cam. 

Silence through the van.

“Touche, Sandman,” Rattlesnake concedes, and Sandman cracks - is that a smile?   
“I was starting to think you two didn’t know how to make jokes.”

“Yeah, and we thought you didn’t know what emotions were, Sandy,” Virgil hums into his headset, feeling something akin to fondness creep into his chest as he looks at his partners.

“Don’t call me that-”

“Oh? Who can’t take jokes now, Mr. Sleep-” 

*****

And now Rattlesnake is gone. Virgil’s first partner, the man who gave both him and Sandy their call signs. 

There last mission had been just that - their last. Now Rattle is gone, some new division and they’re flying solo together until they get a new third on their team.

It’s awkward.

It’s too quiet, and Virgil doesn’t know what to do as he watches Logan check his weaponry through the security cam in the armoury. Logan has his headset on; Virgil could talk to him. But it’s weird, wrong and strange without Rattle on the line too. It takes several minutes, but Virgil finally breaks the silence.

“Think you’ve checked your weapons of mass destruction well enough, Sandy? You could put the Jolly Green Giant to sleep with those things,” Virgil teases, and when his partner cracks a smile, he thinks they’ll be okay.

Maybe.


End file.
